


Peanut Butter with Chocolate

by Diary



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bechdel Test Fail, Conversations, Gen, Morally Ambiguous Character, Non-Consensual Drug Use, POV Male Character, POV Will Graham, Post-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-30
Updated: 2016-03-30
Packaged: 2018-05-30 01:35:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6403330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Diary/pseuds/Diary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Did you ever think that I could have been a victim once? That the reason I can be victimised now without becoming one is because, like you, I managed to rise above being one in the past?” Complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peanut Butter with Chocolate

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Hannibal.

The dogs bark and whine when Freddie’s car pulls up.

Sighing, Will wrangles them into the bedroom.

Opening the door, he greets, “Freddie.”

“Will.” She stumbles.

Reflexively catching her, he studies her face. Her eyes aren’t as sharp as usual, and her skin might be a shade or two paler than normal.

“Thank you. I’m okay." Extracting her arm, she says, “I didn’t eat breakfast.”

He doesn’t bother offering her anything; he doesn’t have much in the way of vegetarian options, and knowing her, doing so would just end up backfiring on him.

They sit down, and she takes a sip of from her thermos before withdrawing her recorder. “You need to talk more this time,” she bluntly informs him. “It doesn’t have to be about Hannibal, Abigail, or your incarnation, but give me something.”

Leaning back, he says, “I could give you information on certain past cases, if you want.”

She doesn’t answer.

“Freddie?”

Blinking rapidly, she says, “Yeah, okay, that would be nice.”

He briefly considers putting his wrist on forehead. “Do you have a fever, Freddie?”

She tilts her head. “No, of course not.” Taking another sip, she starts to get her laptop out of it’s case, fumbles, and the case tips over on the floor.

When she doesn’t show relief the laptop stayed inside the case, he knows something is definitely wrong.

He looks at her, and she simply stares into space with blank eyes and a sheen of sweat on her forehead.

Keeping his voice soft, he tells her, “Freddie, I’m going to feel your forehead to ascertain if you have a fever.”

There’s no response.

When he places his wrist against her forehead, she starts shaking, but her face remains impassive.

His eyes land on the thermos sitting on the coffee table, and cursing, he takes a deep breath. “Okay, Freddie, I don’t know how much of this you can comprehend, but I’m going to lay you on your stomach, and I need you to stay in position while I go to the other room.”

Please, please, keep breathing, he silently begs.

Manipulating her loose-boned, shaky body stomach-down on the couch, he continues, “I think you’ve been drugged. I’m going to call 911 on my landline.”

His cell phone is in his pocket, but it’s not possible to trace them to an exact location.

Instead of using the corded phone in his kitchen, he slips past the dogs in his bedroom and grabs the cordless.

“911, what’s the nature of your emergency?”

“This is Special Agent Will Graham. There’s a woman, Freddie Lounds, in my house who’s either been drugged or- she’s non-responsive, shaky, and sweating.” Getting back to the living room, he sighs. “And she’s just vomited.”

The dispatcher reads his address out. “This is your and her current location?”

“Yes.”

“An ambulance has been dispatched. Before she became non-responsive, did she show any incoordination or difficulty speaking?”

“Yes to the first, no to the second.” Being mindful of the vomit on the floor, he kneels down and keeps eye contact with Freddie. “She stumbled when she came in and couldn’t retrieve her laptop from its case.”

“How’s her breathing, Agent Graham?”

“It’s shallow but consistent. I laid her on the couch, stomach-down.”

“Good. I can stay on the line, if you’d like.”

“No, but thank you. I’ll call back if there’s any change.”

When he hangs up, he puts the phone on the coffee table. “An ambulance is coming, Freddie. I’m going to get something to put your thermos in. Please, just stay where you are.”

He finds a freezer Ziplock bag, some paper towels, and manages to get the thermos closed inside without touching it.

Kneeling back near the couch, he sees she’s drooling. Carefully, he wipes her face. “Like I said, I don’t know how much you’re comprehending right now. But if you can understand me, I need you to listen. Your name is Freddie Lounds, you’re in Wolf Trap, Virginia, and it’s nine-thirty in the morning. Someone drugged your tea, Freddie. I’ve called an ambulance. I don’t know how you feel right now. What I do know is: You will be fine. As far as I can tell, no one’s touched you, and I promise you that no one will now.”

Rubbing his eyes, he confides, “I took ketamine, once. It was terrifying. And then, there was all that the encephalitis and Dr Lecter did. But I hope this doesn’t have to be terrifying for you.”

The dogs start barking, and he hears the sirens approaching.

…

Jack is there when he gets out of the ambulance. “Will.”

“Jack.” He hands over the bagged thermos, and they walk behind paramedics wheeling the gurney in.

“This is Freddie Lounds, Will.”

“I know.”

“Whatever happened-”

“She’s probably going to go after me,” Will says. “I know. Doesn’t change the fact I’m in no way responsible.”

“You should have called me, first.”

“That’s something a guilty person might have done, calling his FBI buddy. I’m on tape.”

Jack sighs. “Let’s hope it’s enough.”

…

“Mister Graham? Agent Crawford?”

Will looks up from the crossword he’s doing, and Jack puts down his phone.

“Freddie Lounds is asking for Mister Graham,” a nurse says. “You wouldn’t happen to have her laptop, would you,” she asks in such desperation Will knows Freddie must be making a production out of not having it.

Taking off his glasses, he manages not to smile or sigh in relief.

Let her be okay, he hopes.

“Sorry, no,” he answers.

“How is Miss Lounds,” Jack asks.

“Right,” the nurse mutters. “She’ll be okay. Maybe you two can convince her to-”

She doesn’t continue.

He shakes his head when Jack looks at him.

They get to the Freddie’s room, and the nurse makes a hasty retreat.

“Will,” Freddie says. Her voice is slightly hoarse, but her eyes are focused. “I need my laptop. You’re going to need to give me a statement. I don’t remember much, but I have to write about this. Since I’m actually a victim in this instance, you shouldn’t be as reluctant as you usually-”

“Freddie, your laptop is still at my house.”

She glares. “Did you lock your doors? What about your dogs? Is it safe from them? Is my car locked?”

Jack gives a loud sigh.

Will notices the full glass of water by her bed. “You need to drink something, Freddie. I’ll get you something. Something sealed. What do you want?”

“Unsweet tea or water,” she answers. “I’d offer to give you money, but apparently, you left my purse God knows where.”

…

After getting her a can of green tea from the vending machine, he finds her and Jack arguing.

“This didn’t happen to you, Jack. I get to make these decisions.” Accepting the can, she says, “Thank you.”

“Freddie is refusing a rape kit.”

Sitting down, Will asks, “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“Yes. I didn’t drink any of the tea until I pulled into your driveway.”

Radiating frustration, Jack says, “As much as I hate to say this, unless a rape kit is done, you can’t know that Will didn’t do anything.”

Will dismisses Jack’s apologetic look with a shrug.

“But I do know,” Freddie says.

Will tries to process her words.

“He told me he was going to touch my head to see if I had a fever, and then, he told me my name, where I was, and the time.” Looking at Will, she says, “You said, ‘As far as I can tell, no one’s touched you, and I promise you that no one will now.”

…

After Freddie’s released, Jack comes over. “That set of prints we got off Freddie’s thermos?”

“Yeah?”

“We got a hit. A barista at Freddie’s favourite coffee and tea shoppe. We knew his prints would likely be on it, she told us herself that he was one of the people who handled it, but here’s where the case gets complicated: We’ve found evidence suggesting he’s raped several women using largely the same M.O.”

“And,” Will realises, “if he can prove he didn’t drug Freddie, the rest is likely to be thrown out.”

“But if it’s proven he did, we’ll have a much easier time getting legitimate evidence for the other victims. Will, we both know Freddie is capable of- we’ll just say having a healthy disregard for the law. We also know she does have a genuine talent for digging up the bad in people. Do you think she’d drug herself in order to frame him for a crime he has committed against others? Or even her in the past?”

Will considers the question. “It’s not outside the realm of possibility, but Freddie isn’t stupid or naïve, Jack. I once broke her window and dragged her out of her car after she found human remains in my shed. Even before that, she labelled me everything from a sadistic sociopath to a manipulative narcissist. GHB outside it’s intended purpose is dangerous even in small does, and for a woman to deliberately drug herself in the middle of nowhere with a man she doesn’t like and doesn’t like her- she could have died, Jack. And whether I’d ever be capable of such a horrendous thing or not, it’s not inaccurate to say that I did have the opportunity to rape, torture, and otherwise do her harm.”

“Could she have slowly building up a tolerance and taken some that day, knowing what symptoms to fake?”

“You’d have to ask a doctor. But if Freddie were planning this- Just because Freddie isn’t stupid, that doesn’t mean she hasn’t done some stupid things in her less-than-legal endeavours. It probably wouldn’t be the stupidest thing she’s ever done, but as of six months ago, rape is a federal crime. Framing someone for a federal crime is in itself a federal crime, and with all the other things we’ve got on her, there’s no way she’d walk.”

Shaking his head, Jack leans back. “The sonofabitch is guilty, Will. I don’t know how to feel about this. I want him where he belongs. Behind bars. Part of me takes the view, if Freddie did set him up, he more-than deserved it and then some. On the other hand, this isn’t a win for us or even all the legitimate survivors of sexual assault out there. The only way it comes close is if he did hurt her in the past, and- whatever this says about me, I’d rather she just be Freddie deciding to do this for whatever twisted reasons she has than for her to be a victim who thought this was the only or, even just, the best way to get justice.”

“I wish I knew what to say,” Will sympathetically replies. “All I can say is, she isn’t stupid or naïve, Jack. That doesn’t mean she didn’t do it, but- being very careful how I say this: Considering the circumstances, this could be the best win we’re liable to get. A rapist made a mistake, and he’s hopefully going to go away for it. His mistake involved him hurting a young woman, but not as badly as some have been. I have no idea how rape would or has affected Freddie. Being drugged, though, we both know this isn’t going to keep her down.”

Chuckling slightly, Jack agrees, “True.” Standing, he clasps Will’s shoulder. “Thank you.”

…

Freddie opens the door to her hotel room.

Her eyes have heavy rings under them, and he notices she’s shaking.

“Withdrawal?”

Nodding, she looks around. “I’m good with the lack of sleep, but I’m scared and having paranoid thoughts, and I wish my body would stick to one temperature.”

“Let’s go for a walk, Freddie.”

She grabs a coat.

…

They sit down on a park bench.

“It’s a beautiful day,” he comments.

“I ate a cheeseburger last night. I don’t know why. I haven’t since I was- What are we doing here, Will?”

“What made you drug yourself, Freddie?”

Scoffing, she pulls the jacket closer around her. “Only you would blame a victim-”

“Freddie, cut the crap,” he orders. “There are people who are victimised, and there are victims. I’ve been a victim. You never have been. Now, maybe you legitimately feel like one right now, but I promise you, once the withdrawal lessens, you’re going to be back to your old self.”

“God, I hope so,” she mutters. Taking a breath and shrugging off the jacket, she says, “Someone drugged my tea. You aren’t going to find a way to punish me for that.”

“We’ll do it your way: Hypothetically, you drugged yourself. Tell me your motivation. Why involve me?”

She shakes her head. “If I planned to do such a crazy, dangerous thing, why would I involve you? I died for you once, Will. You hurt me.”

“You might have had a different plan that required sudden improvisation,” he answers. “You’re good, Freddie, but there’s always inconsistencies. Hannibal taught us even the very best can’t avoid them. You wouldn’t drive under the influence if you could help it. I’ve been with you when you’ve ordered drinks before. You always take a sip before leaving. If you didn’t take a sip this time, that’s an oddity. If you added the GBH in the shop, someone might have noticed. If you added it later, there’s always a chance someone noticed something.”

“You aren’t going to find a way to punish me." She rubs at her arms. “Maybe I didn’t take a sip because I was in a hurry to get to you before you could change your mind or manage to disappear off with Hannibal Lecter. Maybe I did take a sip, and everyone got lucky that the GBH didn’t take effect until later. Hell, strictly hypothetical, maybe I got a third party to drug the tea and made sure they wouldn’t get caught. I was drugged, Will, and the person who did it is who you should go after.”

“I’m not going after you, Freddie,” he truthfully assures her. “Not for this. Eat some peanut butter with chocolate. The drug’s probably messing with your iron levels, and the chocolate will help with the anxiety.”

He starts to leave.

“Will.”

Turning, he's struck by how vulnerable she looks.   

“Did you ever think that I could have been a victim once? That the reason I can be victimised now without becoming one is because, like you, I managed to rise above being one in the past?”

“I wondered, once,” he answers. “But then, I got to truly know you, Freddie. I don’t know everything in your past, and there are still parts of you that utterly baffle me, but I know you, Freddie. And I know that, for once, for whatever reason you did this, you believe to your core that it was right. So, I’m not going to try to expose you. Let a guilty man be framed for once and justly suffer for it. The only thing I really can’t understand is why you involved me, but in the end, it doesn’t matter.”

He walks away.


End file.
